The Song in My Heart
by The Wandering Quill
Summary: The tech crew has a secret…and unfortunately for them, it will only be a matter of time before Anna's ever-growing curiosity leads to the truth. But for now, she'll have to make do with singing lessons from a mysterious tutor and rehearsing for their next musical. AU, Elsanna.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Frozen_—that belongs to Disney.

* * *

**The Song in My Heart**

_Prologue_

**-x-x-x-**

"_Let me go, and I will run.  
__I will not be silent."_

* * *

"Do you realize the dangerous game you are playing right now?"

His hissed words rang loudly in the silence of the auditorium, echoing and breaking off into a hundred accusatory voices. It was just the two of them here, as she preferred it to be; as she hoped it would be. They were comrades, survivors, kindred spirits…and he understood her.

"Don't you **dare** call this a mere _'game,'_" she hissed back, the air around them thick with rising tension as the temperature seemed to drop. "I am well aware of the dangers involved and I do not need _you_ of all people to lecture me on my actions."

He would always understand, even if his stubbornness prevented him from seeing things right away. They were too alike in that regard, and they both carried scars that would remain with them for the rest of their lives. They were both broken…but somehow, in some way neither of them could possibly fathom, Fate had deigned them worthy of a chance to pick up the pieces.

"If **I** was a damned fool back then, then I don't even know _what_ to call you now," he growled, eyes narrowing into slits. "My situation was different from…from **this**. This is on an entirely different scale—the consequences are costlier if you make a mistake!"

He _needed_ to understand that this was her turn—_her_ turn to make herself whole again…and damn it all if she let this chance pass her by.

"Then I _won't_ make a mistake."

An aggravated roar escaped from his throat as he stomped his boot on the stage, the action echoing throughout the silent auditorium like a gunshot.

"You are _unbelievable!_ Do you honestly think I'll just stand back and allow you to orchestrate your own ruin?!" he snarled, an undercurrent of sorrow in the anger coating his now-rough voice. "I can't! I refuse to do so! I won't let you endanger yourself like this!"

He was concerned for her. It had been the same…back then.

"'Endanger myself?' I stood by you when _you_ were playing the fool! Why can't you do the same for _me?_" Her hands were shaking, her eyes narrowed to match his. "What makes you think you can stop me? I _know_ you—for all your brutish ways, you wouldn't stoop so low as to resort to sabotage."

She saw his hands curl into tight fists; his knuckles white.

"What, would you fight me instead? Use force to change my mind? I believe we _both_ know who would win."

But unlike back then…_**that**_ hadn't occurred. He had seen the pieces broken into further fragments on that horrible day.

"You underestimate me," he growled, slowly shifting into a crouch as his eyes gleamed anxiously beneath the stage lights. "And I **will** make you see reason, even if I have to kick that cold ass of yours to the curb. No matter how many times it will take."

Allowing a faint smirk, she mirrored his crouch, her skin tingling and her nerves ablaze. She could almost taste the unbridled freedom; feel the reckless abandon her soul longed for, just out of reach. The air was charged, waiting in breathless anticipation for the destined clash between two forces so alike, yet _so very_ different.

"No holding back, then."

It was a battle they knew was inevitable the moment they first met, all those years ago.

"No holding back. As it should be."

And she knew, with utmost certainty, that despite their reluctance and refusals whenever the subject was brought up in their conversations…

"No more concealing."

…that they both could not help but wonder at the outcome, and what it could possibly bring them.

"Only feeling."

For a few moments, there was only silence. Her heartbeat was terribly loud in her ears.

_No backward glances._

Taking the first move, he suddenly lunged forward, the muscles in his throat straining from the strength of his guttural roar.

_We've passed the point of no return._

Elsa's feet pounded across the stage as she rushed to meet him, drawing her arm back and reveling in the powerful current of adrenaline and electricity coursing through her veins, her mind…her very soul.

_Just let it all go._

* * *

**Author's Note:** In terms of formatting, from least to greatest, its: _emphasis_, **emphasis**, _**emphasis.**_

Anyway, the true A/N is in Chapter 1. Do not expect regular updates, but the next should be out soon after I gauge the initial response to this. I cannot guarantee a time estimation for the other chapters, however.

As confusing as it may seem with this prologue, this is still Elsanna. I might also take a few liberties with some of the other characters, drawing on their original versions in tandem with their Disney counterparts, simply because…well, I thought it would be interesting. There will be two _Rise of the Guardians_ characters involved in somewhat minor roles—and I'll have to say this because _someone_ will undoubtedly wonder what else I might do—neither of them will be Jack Frost.

If you wish to satisfy your craving for Jack and Elsa in the same story—OTP, friendship, or otherwise—then I would suggest you look elsewhere. While I already normally don't roll that way, my decision to not include him here is based on another reason entirely.


	2. Meet the Crew

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Frozen_ or any of the musicals that will be mentioned and/or performed from here on out.

**Author's Note:** Obsession with _Frozen_ plus missing my tech crew buddies who are still in high school equals…whatever the hell this is.

Anyway, I have a vague idea of a plot going on, but just know that it will be heavily based on _Phantom of the Opera_. Why? Well…I dunno. Maybe it's because there's a promising _Frozen_ fanfic with _Phantom_ in it and the fact that the author hasn't updated lately is making me stir-crazy?

If you are reading this, I implore you for chapter 3. Phantom!Elsa is quickly becoming one of my favorite types of Elsas. :3

So…yeah. Needless to say, that prologue will be important later, for all of its intentional super-vagueness. I had a different prologue typed up and was debating between the two, but in the end, I decided to go with the current one. The other version felt like it was revealing _too_ much of what I have planned so far, but not to worry—I plan to include it at the end of a…later chapter.

As for this first chapter, it's a bit long, but…I like long chapters. That, and I sort of can't afford to split this one with the way I have things planned out. Sorry if your eyes hurt, but, erm…read in moderation?

And for those unfamiliar with how the fly system works, a quick search on Google should fix that. Also, heads up on a somewhat(?) long-ish Author's Note at the end. Just wanted to get some stuff out of the way so I won't have to explain it again later.

…Enjoy.

* * *

**The Song in My Heart**

_Chapter 1: Meet the Crew_

**-x-x-x-**

"_Many people pray to be kept out of unexpected problems.  
Some people pray to be able to confront and overcome them."_

* * *

A wrench gleamed in the dim light of the backstage, spinning rapidly in the air before a callused hand deftly caught it with all the ease of a professional juggler in a circus troupe. Its owner watched the dancers spinning elegantly beneath the stage lights, dark brown eyes filled with an alertness that belied his relaxed position, casually sitting on the locking rail in a large enough spot between the lines. It was a little dangerous, considering there might suddenly be a freak malfunction with the pulleys and the weights might drop down on his head, but…he'd been doing this long enough, and nothing ever happened before.

He softly tapped the toe of his boot against the wooden black planks of the stage, just in case.

The dancers onstage cheered as the orchestra pit continued with the lively music, clapping in time to the beat with an enthusiasm that was almost infectious. The audience certainly seemed to be getting into it from what he could see, but the crew had already heard the songs enough times. Besides, they had a job to do, and that was to make the actors and the show look good. Well…even better, actually. Loathe as he was to admit it, the actors this year were pretty talented.

All the same, more than a few heads were bobbing in time to the music from their place in the shadows.

"Get ready," Kristoff muttered to a fellow member of the tech crew watching the show nearby. "We're flying up the decorations soon. Make sure Jim minds the electric tape I put on the line for him—he almost knocked the basketball hoop into the lights cuz he flew it up too high."

The techie nodded, smirking as he gave a small salute, dark eyes glinting with amusement. "Aye aye, Cap'n. I'll see to it the lazy scalawag doesn't fall asleep at his post!"

Kristoff stowed the wrench back in his pocket, failing to hide the faint grin that crept on his face. "Enough with the sailor talk, Olaf. I'm a different sort of captain."

"You're technically not any of the conventional types of captains—it's just a title the Stage Manager pulled outta her butt," the boy said with a shrug, turning to walk away. "But admit it, Kris. You like being called 'Cap'n.'"

"Shut up, Olaf."

"Whatever you say…Cap'n!" the techie said, grinning cheekily over his shoulder as he walked over to his line.

Kristoff sighed heavily, running a hand through his blonde hair as he pushed off from the locking rail, soundlessly making his way to his own post. The timing for this had to be perfect—the stress of it was second only to flying out the brick walls in Act II. Sure, this was their second-to-last night and they've had shit-tons of practice under their belt, but even so, the tech crew knew more than anyone that absolutely anything could happen during a show…**Anything.**

God, he still couldn't forget that incident…even if it _had_ given him one of his best friends.

A red light blinking from the com system hooked to a ladder on the wall quickly caught his attention. Sparing a glance towards the stage, Kristoff cursed quietly under his breath as he trudged over—their part was up in less than a minute! _And where is that damned Stage Manager?! This is the last time we let the Director give an actor that position, mark my wor—_

A frantic voice immediately assaulted his ears the moment the blonde slipped on the headset and held down the talk button. Palms sweating in anticipation, Kristoff couldn't help but continually glance at the stage, hissing, "Stage left. What the hell is going on?"

"Wha—Kristoff?! Why are you on here? Where's Charlotte?!" a panicked voice came from the other end, accompanied by anxious whispers in the background from what sounded like the tech booth. "Nevermind that! We have a problem!"

"Calm down, Jane!" Kristoff snapped, feeling a little guilty for shouting at the—admittedly—sweet brunette, but unable to keep the irritation from his voice—Bernardo had just separated Tony and Maria. "Is the problem imminent? Will it mess up the next scene transition?"

"What? Well, no it won't, but—"

"Then wait until we finish our job, okay? If you haven't already, send some people from stage right to look for Charlotte."

"But that's the thing! They—"

"Kristoff!" Olaf's alarmed whisper pierced through the darkness as the bright lights onstage rapidly dimmed and actors suddenly flooded the backstage, signaling the end of the party scene.

Hissing a curse, Kristoff yanked off the headset and shoved it into the hands of a nearby actor who had just exited the stage, lunging desperately towards his position. His right knee banged against the hard metal of the locking rail as he used the rest of his momentum to hurriedly slip the ring off the rope lock and pull down the red lever. Struggling to regain his footing, the blonde grabbed at the line, going hand over hand as he pulled upwards, ignoring the throbbing in his knee. It was a miracle, but Kristoff somehow managed to keep up with his fellow techies handling the fly rails, only lagging behind for half a second and barely noticeable to the audience.

_Some captain _I _am,_ the blond thought, grunting as he quickly pulled up the lever to forcibly halt the line before the decoration could hit one of the lights. Normally it was bad practice, but his line had been going a little _too_ fast and he had no desire to have rope-burnt hands for Act II. _Note to self: strangle Charlotte the next time I see her._

Kristoff felt a hand on his arm as he slipped the ring back on the rope lock, and turned to see Olaf standing there with a frown on his face. "What happened out there?" the boy whispered, dark eyes filled with concern. "You almost missed the cue!"

The blonde sighed heavily, tiredly running a hand down his face. "Charlotte wasn't at her damn post, that's what. And Jane was freaking out over the com because—" He stopped, turning his head and searching amidst the dark forms crowding the backstage. "Shit, I gave the headset to an actor."

The last time he gave a headset to an actor—rather reluctantly, he might add—they had accidentally ruined both the cord and the com itself somehow.

"Oh, c'mon, Kris! I'm sure they won't break it—"

"I am _not_ paying for a new com system, Olaf! Don't you remember how broke I am this month?"

"Hey, the Tech Director is actually the one who'll—"

A voice suddenly drifted over to them amidst the music and the quiet rustles of costumes, sounding a little nervous. "Is there a Kristoff here? Kristoff Bjorgman?"

Immediately following the voice in spite of the throbbing in his knee, and making no attempt to hide the scowl on his face, the blonde arrived in front one of the actors—a wavy-haired redhead named Ariel. Her perfectly manicured hands gingerly held out the headset to him, as if it were a ticking time bomb. _At least she's careful with it, _Kristoff couldn't help but think as he slipped it back on, and she hurriedly brushed past him to rejoin her fellow actors. _Even so, I wouldn't trust them completely with equipment like this._

A shriek immediately rang in his ears. "KRISTOFF!"

"OW! _Damn it, Jane!_"

…

…_Oh god, I hope the audience didn't hear that._

"Maria" had some fairly quiet parts, especially near the end. For the second time that night, a miracle had occurred and Kristoff was lucky enough to have shouted right when the music had swelled to a crescendo. Even so, more than a few pointed looks from both actors and techies alike were thrown his way. Olaf merely introduced his palm to his forehead, shaking his black-haired head in dismay.

Ears still ringing, Kristoff was glad the darkness hid the bright blush of embarrassment on his cheeks as he held down the talk button. "Okay…Scene transition done. What's the problem, again?"

"Officer Krupke got hurt and Charlotte is nowhere to be found! I sent some techies from my part of the stage to look for her, but they haven't come back yet!" Jane relayed frantically, the panic causing her voice to shift an octave higher and create some feedback.

A few groans from the tech booth part of the line verified that their ears must've been bleeding as badly as his. Their line went silent, indicating that they must've pulled back in a strategic retreat and ripped their headsets off—a smart move, and one he wished he could do too…

"Damn it, calm down, will ya?" Kristoff vaguely wondered how badly his hearing would be affected now. "When did this happen?"

Her response was significantly more subdued. "Not too long ago. About halfway through the party scene, I think. I have a techie dealing with Officer Krupke, but Charlotte is the one who has the keys to the office, where the first aid kit is kept."

_Never. Give. An actor. The keys._ Kristoff resisted the urge to say this aloud as he sighed heavily. "You're the Assistant Stage Manager, aren't you? Shouldn't you have a spare set? And why is the office locked? It's supposed to be kept open _specifically_ for that purpose!"

Meanwhile, the orchestra had finished playing "Maria" and the lights went dark, signaling the crew members responsible for moving set pieces to spring into action. Music kept playing to hide the sounds of wheels rolling across the stage and the grunts of techies as they pushed the pieces into place, working like a well-oiled machine. Once in position, they snuck back to their home in the shadows, fluidly slipping past groups of actors waiting further in the wings for their cues.

Kristoff was _supposed_ to be among them. The crew was short enough on people as is, and he was the strongest on stage left…yet here he was, doing Charlotte's job for her. His angry scowl shifted to that of a worried frown as he saw that Marshall—nicknamed Marshmallow on account of being a softie despite his size—was the only one who had been handling a particularly large set piece.

"Well, Gaston and a few others were caught smoking there earlier so Charlotte decided to lock it up—"

"Has anyone found her yet?" the blonde cut her off as the lights turned back on and the actors made their way onstage. "What happened to the techies you sent to look for her? You're lucky Marshmallow's the strongest guy here, but we have more set pieces to move later—he can't be in two places at once next time!"

"Look, Kristoff…I'm _trying_, but I can't just leave my post here, and I have to make sure the actors are ready for the next scene! I'm also _Prop Manager_, remember?" Jane's exasperated voice patched through, "The techies I sent still haven't come back yet and Officer Krupke needs to get some ice on his foot or else—"

_Damn it…you truly _are _a fool, Bjorgman._

"Was Elsa one of the techies you sent to find Charlotte?" His voice was quiet; no longer whisper-shouting at her, but still retaining an undercurrent of frustration. He should have asked this question _ages_ ago.

"Who?"

"Elsa! Platinum blonde usually in a braid, blue eyes, doesn't talk much? The, uh…the 'Ice Queen?' She's not the one taking care of Krupke right now, is she?" Kristoff desperately wanted to strangle something for resorting to this, and suddenly found Olaf beside him at the mention of her—depending on who you ask—infamous nickname. The black-haired boy raised an eyebrow in question, frowning slightly in concern.

"The Ice Queen…Oh, yes! Her! Yes, I sent her to look for Charlotte!" The actor-turned-Assistant-Stage-Manager's voice grew subdued again. "Should I not have…?"

"You may not know this since you missed one of the tech meetings back in the beginning, and I don't know if Charlotte ever got around to telling you…but Mr. North specifically stated that you should turn to Elsa for any injuries _during_ show time," Kristoff explained through gritted teeth. "You _sent away_ the _one person_ who could help him while that _ditzy_ blonde is—"

He felt the headset suddenly ripped off his head, and whirled about, brown eyes flashing with anger, only to find a glaring Olaf. The techie slipped it onto his own head and reached out behind his best friend to hold down the talk button. "Hey, Jane? It's Olaf. Sorry about Kristoff; he's being a grumpy-pants again," he heard the boy say. "Would you mind explaining the situation to me?"

Thoroughly miffed, Kristoff crossed his arms and leaned against the locking rail, trying not to put too much pressure on his bruised knee, which had begun to throb again. Olaf said a few "okay's" and "oh, I see's"—clearly far more patient with the brunette than Kristoff could spare at the moment. The blonde scowled again, running a hand through his hair like he did whenever he was exasperated. _Techies are better than actors, that's all I'm saying. Just because the two of them didn't make the cut doesn't mean the Director can just appoint them Stage Manager and Assistant Stage Manager!_

"Alright, I'll try to get him to calm down. I'm really sorry about this, Jane. Kristoff's usually a nice guy; you just caught him at a bad time."

_One of the worst times, actually._

His friend placed a hand on his arm after he slung the headset back on the ladder rails. "Kris. With our Tech Director busy with something tonight, you know that the rest of us techies look to you, right? You can't just…let this feud you have with the actors get in the way of that." Olaf sighed heavily, shaking his head in dismay. "Let's go find Elsa. The techies searching for Charlotte just came back and she's not with them. Jane's sending Aladdin and Kida over to fill in for us while we try next."

Kristoff worked his jaw, the tips of his ears growing hot in embarrassment. For _Olaf_ of all people to reprimand him…he must've messed up quite a bit.

"…Fine. But after this, I'm giving Mr. North an earful for ditching us tonight."

* * *

A dainty blonde with cute curls framing a doll-like face sighed heavily to herself, rosy lips puckering in determination as she continued to soldier on through the darkness. Her daddy hadn't raised her to be a pushover, no! Even so, the flashlight held in her manicured hands trembled as her eyes darted back and forth frantically, afraid that something might jump out of the shadows at any moment. She wasn't sure how likely that would be, but it was a _definite_ possibility already, if the tell-tale scratching of mice in the distance, or insects scurrying across the floor were of any indication.

"Ohhh…How did I even _get_ here?" Charlotte groaned to herself as she shuddered, her accented voice bouncing strangely off the walls and turning her whisper into an ominous rumble.

Earlier, the actor playing Officer Krupke had accidentally tripped over a pile of wood in the backroom in his search for his nightstick prop, bruising his ankle something fierce when the pile collapsed on him. The nightstick had been on a shelf a mere foot away, too! Charlotte had wrinkled her nose at the sight of the blue and black skin when she had brought him back to the boys' dressing room for treatment. It was just so…_gross-looking._

She had caught Gaston and his buddies smoking in the Tech Director's office earlier after school and had decided to lock the room to keep them out. Mr. North wasn't here and despite what that Kristoff Bjorgman might think, she was still Stage Manager—she had to act responsible while he was away. Her daddy would've wanted it so, and Tiana would've been proud at her initiative…

…If only she hadn't forgotten where she had set down the keys.

She had hidden them somewhere Gaston and his friends wouldn't expect to find it—that, she remembered. Unfortunately, it seemed she had hidden it _too_ well, even if it _had_ seemed like a good idea at the time.

Since then, Charlotte had looked everywhere for them—the dressing rooms, the practice rooms, the band room, the orchestra room, the choir room…heck, even the bathroom! Quickly running out of 'rooms to check, she had somehow found herself in the backroom where past set pieces, buckets of paint, all manners of equipment and tools, brushes, piles of wood that couldn't find a place in the woodshop, ladders, rags, and brooms had silently greeted her. She had known for a fact that the massive room was chaotic enough with the lights on, but with the show underway, she couldn't risk turning them on. So, trusty flashlight in hand, Charlotte had taken a huge gulp and, steeling herself, boldly plunged into the semi-darkness of the backroom.

Even as the Stage Manager for the past few months of rehearsals, she could count the number of times she'd set foot in there on one hand.

And those had been when all of the lights were _on_.

Needless to say, Charlotte had somehow managed to get herself thoroughly lost. Although, to be fair, it was rather easy to get lost if one were to wander _beyond_ the parts of the backroom that were used the most, such as the paint area, the corner surrounded by a grilled fence where the technical equipment and tools were kept—affectionately nicknamed "The Cage" by the crew—and the cleaning supplies area. Everything after the more recent set pieces and larger piles of wood, however, was uncharted territory to all but the more experienced members of the tech crew.

That is, everyone except Charlotte and Jane.

Right now, the normally spritely blonde was seriously regretting not paying much attention to Olaf's tour from before. A movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention, and the flashlight instantly jerked towards it, her heartbeat loud in her ears, only to find…dripping water.

_Water? Here?_ Charlotte furrowed her brow and directed the light upwards, tracing the path to find its origin at a rusty-looking pipe along the ceiling. _Wait…what?! Why is the ceiling a lot lower now?_

She had noticed earlier that the musty smell of paint and wood shavings had gradually taken on a damper and staler quality as she walked further and further on, but…she didn't think the room would've changed _that_ much at the time. Her flashlight was still able to pick up on older set pieces and supplies covered in tarps with layers of dust on them, so she _should_ still be in the same place…Then again, it _was_ pretty massive to begin with.

"Uh…O—Okay, I don't think the keys are here," Charlotte said to herself, unable to keep the tremor from her voice as she quickly turned back the way she came, footsteps hurrying to return to a more familiar setting. "M—Maybe I should look somewhere…else…now…?"

The way back was almost pitch black, and a little further on, the corridor split in two.

_Wait…corridor? I was in a _corridor?! _How did somethin' like _that _happen?!_

Charlotte froze, struck with terror as she realized that she didn't know which one she had come out from. Casting the light to the floor, she couldn't find any hints of her footsteps, either. The floor was dirty, but curiously enough, it was by no means untouched to the point where it would accumulate the needed dust that could've helped her.

Palms rapidly growing sweatier by the second, the blonde reached into the pocket of her black pants for her phone. Before the start of every show, the Director would collect everyone's phones to eliminate distractions during the performance, but Charlotte was sometimes able to hide hers. It was a good thing she did tonight.

Hurriedly unlocking it, and blinking a few times at the sudden brightness that met her eyes, she found to her dismay that there was no signal. She couldn't call for help.

"T—Tiana?" Charlotte feebly called into the darkness, picking one of the paths and desperately hoping it would lead her back to familiar faces as she started to pick up the pace. "Tia? Anyone? Can anyone hear me?! Tia!"

Tiana was always there for her when they were kids. The dark-skinned girl was the more responsible one between the two of them, and little Charlotte could always count on her to be there when she needed it most, no matter how spoiled or selfish she acted. Now…just simply calling for her best friend's name helped keep the panic at being completely and utterly lost from rising any further. As long as the blonde pretended that Tiana would eventually show up to shake her head, smile at her silliness, and motion for her to follow…that would be enough to keep her from freaking out and having a breakdown.

For now, at least.

"Heeeellllllllloooooooo! Can anyone hear meeeeeee?!" Her shouts echoed long and clear, laced with a growing fear. "Tiaaaaaa! Kristooooooffff! Jaaaaaaaaannneee! Olaaaaaaafff! Annnyyyooonnneee?!"

_Where _am _I, anyway? It's almost like I'm underground._

"Kiiiiiiiidddaaaaa! Jiiiiiiimmmm! Alaaaaaaaddiiiinn! Heeeelllllllooo!"

Charlotte's arm suddenly brushed against a spider's web.

The resulting shriek was louder and shriller than any of her other calls, echoing deep into the network of tunnels and passageways she had just barely begun to discover.

* * *

Worn sneakers came to a sudden halt, its owner pricking their ears as if to listen for something.

_Was that my imagination? Or did I just hear—_

There it was again—a muted shriek coming from a nearby vent, nearly drowned out by the distant music of the show.

Lips curled downward into a frown as a high brow furrowed worriedly, hand tightening around a flashlight while sneakers jerked into motion, running down the hall.

…_Oh, no._

* * *

"**GETITOFFGETITOFFGETITOFFGETITOFFGETITOFFGETITOFFGETITOFFGETITOFF—"**

Charlotte was full-out sprinting now.

"—**GETITOFFGETITOFFGETITOFFGETITOFFGETITOFFGETITOFFGETITOFFGETITOFF—"**

At this point, she was probably putting the star athlete of the track team to shame.

"—**GETITOFFGETITOFFGETITOFFGETITOFFGETITOFFGETITOFFGETITOFFGETITOFF—"**

She didn't know where she was going, nor did she care anymore.

"—**GETITOFFGETITOFFGETITOFFGETITOFFGETITOFF—**_**OOMPH!**_**"**

The blonde tripped over her own feet in the dark and tumbled head over heels, only stopping when she painfully hit a wall with a loud 'thud'. Her flashlight flew out of her hands upon impact, and she vaguely heard it clattering away as she groaned loudly from her sprawled spot on the floor, clutching at her aching head. The music surrounding her was too loud to know for sure, but it _must be_ far away by n—

Eyes blinked owlishly as she quickly pushed herself up into a sitting position, the throbbing in her head momentarily ignored. She bore an uncanny resemblance to a statue at that moment.

Music.

She shouldn't be hearing music.

Why was she hearing music?

_And why is it so loud? No…No way! Could it be…?!_

Charlotte's jaw dropped open, gasping as her eyes widened. Scrambling to her feet, she hastily took in her surroundings, immediately noting that her flashlight had rolled away to the other side of the room. It was a medium-sized room with a low ceiling, but only a little higher than the corridor she had been in. There was a dust-covered table pushed up against one of the walls, and boxes were stacked against another. Light streamed in from several small grills positioned a foot away from the ceiling, illuminating the dust particles thrown up by the blonde's entrance, and shining down on the myriad of trash and assorted items scattered about the floor. Gum wrappers, papers, dust bunnies, a set of familiar-looking keys, candy wrappers, pens, pencils, a guitar pick—

Wait.

Charlotte resisted the urge to squeal in delight as she literally _dove_ for her keys, not caring that she bumped her knees against the floor or unintentionally made her clothes dirtier than they already were. She shot to her feet, bringing the keys to her lips in a loud kiss and holding them high in the air like a trophy as she pranced about the room. She felt like singing for joy, but her throat was hurting a little from all the screaming she did before coming here.

_Speakin' of which…where _is _here, exactly?_

The blonde stopped, turning her gaze to the grills where the light was coming from. She stepped closer, her eyes widening in realization as she saw the polished shoes of the orchestra members through the slits. That's right! She had hidden the keys in the _orchestra pit_—someone must have accidentally kicked them down here when the instruments were being set up earlier! The musicians she could see continued to play with a look of utmost concentration on their faces, paying attention to cues from the Music Director, and more importantly…totally oblivious to the fact that Charlotte was watching them from a room beneath the orchestra pit.

A room that, as far as she knew, shouldn't exist.

Olaf certainly hadn't mentioned it in his tour…had he?

Temporarily pushing aside her curiosity now that she had her keys back—not to mention that another second spent here was another second that Krupke's foot wasn't being treated—the blonde decided to check if her phone had a signal. She reached into her pocket…only to have her fingers brush against nothing but fabric.

Wait…hadn't she been holding it in her hand earlier?

"Oh, come on!" Charlotte exclaimed, ignoring the aching in her throat and exasperatedly throwing her hands into the air as she cast her gaze to the heavens. "First I lose the keys, then I lose myself…and now I lose my _phone?!_ Why?!"

Thank god the orchestra was still playing. She could only imagine how freaked out they would be if they suddenly heard a voice coming from nowhere.

"…Looking for this?"

Like that.

Eyes as wide as Tiana's gumbo pots, Charlotte's mouth opened and the newcomer lunged at her in one fluid, lightning-fast motion, a hand clamping over her mouth to stifle the shocked shriek that threatened to escape from her throat. Icy blue eyes filled her vision, imploring her to remain calm and to _not_ scare the living daylights out of the orchestra above them. Her heart thundered wildly in her chest as she forced herself to get a grip, quickly nodding her head to signal that she wouldn't scream now.

The newcomer immediately jerked their hand away as if burned and stepped back, allowing Charlotte to finally get a good look at her rescuer. A girl with platinum blonde hair stood in the dim light of the room, her bangs haphazardly slicked back—_frosted, more like_, Charlotte thought distantly—in a wild look that contrasted nicely with the neat braid hanging over her left shoulder. The girl was taller than her by give or take two inches, and was dressed in the typical all-black attire of the tech crew, a flashlight hanging from her belt. Her skin was paler than Charlotte's, and those icy blue eyes regarded her warily, as if she had heard the screaming from earlier and still wasn't entirely sure she'd do it again.

She probably heard it. The blonde had been screaming loud enough to wake the dead.

Charlotte blinked as recognition finally settled in. "Oh, wait a second…I know you." She almost said 'You're the Ice Queen!' but decided against it; Tiana's chiding words ringing in her ears. "What was your name again? El…Ellie…Elfie…Elpha…ba?"

The girl gave a weak smile. "It's Elsa, actually."

"Oh, that's right!" the blonde smacked her forehead with her free hand, giving her rescuer an apologetic look. "I'm really, really sorry! It's just that you hardly talk to me and Jane, so—"

"No, really, it's fine," Elsa said hurriedly, holding out a _very_ familiar-looking device. "I found this when I was following your…screaming earlier. You're lucky—I almost accidentally stepped on it."

Charlotte once again fought the urge to squeal in delight as she eagerly took the device. "My phone! Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, Elsa! You're my hero!"

The taller girl blinked at her, looking stunned. Charlotte, for her part, didn't notice since she had already crossed the room to pick up her fallen flashlight after sticking her phone back in her pocket. Thankfully, nothing had broken and she gingerly brushed off the dust from when it had rolled away. Suddenly realizing the state of her own dusty appearance, the blonde needed but a quick once-over before she started lamenting on what her friends would say if they saw her now.

"_Ooh_, and dust stands out on black, too! I must look like a hobo now! Why can't the crew wear somethin' that ain't gonna show—"

A polite cough pulled her out of her thoughts and she turned to see Elsa standing in the doorway, flashlight in hand and fiddling absently with her braid as her cool stare bore into hers. "We have a show, remember? And Jane is in near-hysterics over the fact that you're missing…Why _did_ you leave your post, anyway? "

"That's right, I forgot to tell her!" Charlotte moaned as she followed the techie back into the corridor, making sure to stay close so she wouldn't get lost again. "Krupke tripped in the backroom and his ankle was bruised somethin' fierce! I got him to the boys' dressin' room, but there's nothin' there that can help him. I was lookin' for my keys earlier so I could open the office and get the first aid kit, but I couldn't remember where I put 'em!"

Elsa briefly glanced at her as they walked, a frown on her fair features and her blue eyes strangely cautious. "And you hid them back there?"

"No, I hid 'em in the orchestra pit, but someone must've accidentally kicked 'em down here." Charlotte's eyes narrowed suspiciously as realization dawned upon her yet again, poking Elsa's arm and earning a visible flinch in response. "Hey…What _is_ that room? Why is it there? And how'd you find me? How are you even—_Are_ you leadin' us to the backroom?"

The taller girl suddenly stopped, almost causing Charlotte to bump into her. Her brow was furrowed in confusion as she bit her lip, obviously contemplating something. Oh! Maybe an explanation?

"You…were in the backroom?" she finally asked anticlimactically.

Charlotte nearly stomped her foot in frustration, feeling cheated. "Why, of course! I was lookin' for the keys there and wandered a bit—okay, maybe more than a bit—farther than I intended, and somehow ended up in that room!" Her lips puckered in what Tiana liked to call her 'thinking face', eyes narrowing in suspicion again. "What? Didntcha go through the same way?"

Elsa exhaled softly through her nose, her jaw set as if she had finally made up her mind over…whatever it was she was thinking about. She suddenly whirled on Charlotte, blue eyes hard as the ice the blonde had likened them to and almost burning in the darkness. The techie's face was close, and it was only then did she notice the light dusting of freckles on her nose. Charlotte's short-lived surprise over this discovery dissipated just as soon as it had arrived, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck rising and the temperature seeming to drop around them.

If Elsa was trying to be intimidating, she certainly hit the nail with that one. Charlotte rarely spoke to the girl and only caught brief glimpses of her even though she was the Stage Manager. Despite that, the impression she had gotten was that of a girl who was socially awkward—or in most cases, _cold_—with people outside of the crew, treating actors, musicians and directors alike with formal rigidity and obvious unease, earning her the nickname 'Ice Queen' by those who were particularly offended. Tiana chided her for accidentally using it sometimes when she forgot the girl's name, saying that it was rude unless Elsa herself was okay with it.

In fact, compared to her usual unease around others, it was nothing short of shocking that Elsa had spoken so much to her at all. (Then again, she was _technically_ a part of the crew…right?) But now…_now_, she was witnessing a whole other side to this girl. No matter what words the Tiana in her head was saying, _this_ was the Ice Queen she was dealing with—the Ice Queen that some of her fellow actors would grumble about and glare when she wasn't looking.

And Charlotte couldn't help but feel a little scared.

"Listen close, and listen well," Elsa began quietly, her voice cold and easily heard in the silence of the corridor, broken only by the distant beginnings of "America" from the direction they had come from. "Even though you won't be the Stage Manager for the next musical—of that, I can guarantee—currently, as of now, at this moment…you are part of the crew. Despite what Kristoff thinks, that is what you are: a techie. And as such, there is an oath that you must swear—an oath that _all_ members must swear. Although you won't be one for much longer, the crew will still see it as binding, even _if_ you return to being an actor."

Charlotte swore she saw winter in her eyes—a cold tundra of icy blue swirling with snowflakes and hail, reflecting off the meager light provided by their flashlights.

"As clichéd as this sounds…what happens in the tech crew, _**stays**_ in the tech crew. Whatever you see, whatever you hear, it is _not_ to be shared outside of the crew."

In spite of the absolute seriousness in which the phrase was uttered, the cliché got to her. After a moment of stunned silence, she couldn't help but giggle, even if it _was_ laced with nervousness. "Ooh, good one, Elsa! You guys ain't doin' anythin' illegal, are you? Like drug dealin' or murder, like the ritual sacrifice sorta thing? 'cuz…if you are…I…can't…"

Wrong move. Those eyes hardened further, becoming a blizzard.

Okay, she really had to stop with all the metaphors. Elsa was scary right now. No need to poke the polar bear with a stick.

"Charlotte." She had never heard her name hissed before…and she didn't like it one bit—it felt disgusting and wrong. "I…_we_ had hoped to avoid this, given your situation, but it seems there is no choice. Can you swear that _whatever you find, whatever you see_—be it that room or these corridors—you will _not_ breathe a word to your friends **or** your family? And that should you ever feel the need to do so, you'll check with Mr. North first?"

_Oh my god, what's up with all the secrecy? What in the world does she expect me to find? This…This ain't like some Illuminati stuff, is it?! L—Like a freakin' cult, even?! Or the Mafia?! Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god—_

"Uh…sure?" The frown on Elsa's face deepened. "I mean, yeah! I swear I won't blab about tech crew stuff to anyone without askin' Mr. North! Not even Tia!"

_Wait…can I really do that?_

The techie's eyes searched hers intently, like a scientist inspecting an organism beneath their microscope, or a snow leopard confronting a threat to its survival…or even a god deciding the fate of a mortal life in the palm of her hand. Just when Charlotte didn't think she could take the intense scrutiny any longer, Elsa finally stepped out of her personal space, sighing quietly as her shoulders sagged just a teeny bit, as if in defeat. "Good. Now that we have that settled, here comes the hard part…_One of them_, anyway. Consider it a test of your oath."

She abruptly resumed walking again, and Charlotte hurried to catch up. The taller girl's sudden increase in pace was understandable—they'd dilly-dallied enough as is, and Officer Krupke wasn't getting any better.

"So…what's the hard part?" Charlotte ventured to ask, noticing for the first time that they were gradually sloping downwards. So she _had_ been underground…

Elsa surprised her by suddenly ducking into another corridor to their right—something she wouldn't have noticed unless her flashlight shone directly on it. Yet, the platinum blonde moved instinctively, as if she had the whole place mapped out and knew it like the back of her hand. Where were they going?

"Hey, does this way _really_ lead to the backroom? 'cuz after that, we gotta unlock the office and then get to Krupke."

Charlotte continued to follow her rescuer through twists and turns she hadn't thought possible for the theater section of the school to contain.

"Even better," was Elsa's reply as they finally reached a ladder fastened to the wall, voices faintly drifting down to them from somewhere above. "A shortcut."

"Wait…what?"

Her icy blue eyes gleamed in the darkness, caution within them once more. "Remember the hard part I mentioned? The crew already knows, but you have to keep quiet about this. You swore an oath, and I do not think you would relish facing the consequences of breaking it."

And with that grim reminder, Charlotte blinked, peering up the ladder in an attempt to catch a glimpse of where they were heading. There were faint pinpricks of light that she could make out, vaguely in the shape of a trapdoor or something, but that was just about it. They must be close to the auditorium if she could hear people talking…but where?

"Now come on. We only have one scene until it is _absolutely_ imperative that Officer Krupke makes an appearance."

* * *

It would be difficult to check _all_ of Elsa's usual haunts, especially with a show going on, but the few they _had_ gone to yielded no sign of the platinum blonde. Charlotte's purse was still tucked among the crew's backpacks in one of the practice rooms, so at least that meant she was still in the school somewhere. They checked the boys' dressing room next to see if either Elsa or Charlotte had returned and would be treating Officer Krupke's bruised ankle.

No such luck. None of the girls were present and Sanders—nicknamed Sandy—was anxiously moving about the room, searching for something to ease the pain. His normally sleepy-looking eyes were bright and frantic as he turned a spiky-haired head toward the doorway, sparing a brief wave before resuming his search. Olaf, of course, was immediately fascinated by the dark shades of blue and black marring the actor's skin as they entered the room. The boy was always a bit weird like that. Kristoff, for his part, merely cringed at the sight, offering a sympathetic look.

The actor's name was actually Adam; a relatively nice guy with broad shoulders and a head of shaggy, shoulder-length brown hair that had been tamed back into a very short ponytail for his role. He had a crooked nose from a fight with Gaston years back, and his cerulean eyes betrayed the pain he was feeling as he offered the two of them a tight smile. "Kristoff. Olaf. Are those Jets still stirrin' up trouble in the streets? And the Puerto Ricans, too?"

Adam was also known for really getting into his roles. His biggest case was when he performed as the Beast from _Beauty and the Beast_ in the school's fall play three years ago. Kristoff and the others hadn't been there for it, but according to some of the older actors, Adam had pretty much been one with the Beast. His appearance had been disheveled and haggard; his hair unkempt and in need of a trim, falling over his eyes; his arms and legs seemingly hairier than normal. His voice had been rough, almost like a growl, and he even bared his teeth back in a snarl whenever he had gotten angry, which was often, considering his **much** shorter temper back then. Even with Adam's tall height, he had slouched; hands always seemingly curled into claws, with longish fingernails, to boot.

To this day, the Beast had been his most well-known role; even earning him the nickname 'Beast' by the older actors and his closest friends.

"You'll have to get back out there soon, Officer," Kristoff played along, trying to ignore the way Olaf was staring at the actor's foot as if it were a new specimen. "How are you holding up?"

"It hurts like a bitch, kiddo," Adam grunted, somehow managing to ignore Olaf as well. "I can't chase after those hoodlums like this! At the least, I need an ice pack to tide me over. The runt's been lookin' fer a while, but I don't think he'll find anythin'."

The techie in question scrunched up his shoulders in determination and redoubled his efforts in the background, short legs scurrying to yet another corner of the room.

"Whoa…It's so weird-looking! I wanna touch it!"

"Olaf, stop that! Don't poke his foot; it'll hurt!"

Kristoff sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose at the inevitable headache from dealing with his best friend's eccentric ways. "You haven't seen Elsa or Charlotte, have you? Don't answer that; of course you haven't. If you had, they'd be here already."

"Elsa's not around?" the actor rumbled as he furrowed his bushy brow, a surprising amount of concern evident in his deep voice. "Is she alright?"

"She went to go look for Charlotte since that idiot forgot to tell everyone where she was going," the blonde explained with a frown as he crossed his arms. "I swear, that girl is so selfish, only thinking about herself. How in the world does Tiana put up with her?"

For all his dislike towards actors, Tiana was among the few exceptions, along with Adam. Food—and _incredibly amazing_ _food_, at that—was always a plus in his book.

"Who knows? I'm certain that Charlotte has the capacity to rise to the occasion," Adam said with a shrug of his shoulders, abandoning his Officer Krupke persona. "After all, there are more to others than meets the eye."

_Oh, yeah. Definitely._

He had lived and breathed his role for the past few months, so Kristoff was more than a little shocked to see the actor…_not_ acting as the incompetent police officer for once. As weird as Adam's acting tendencies already were, this was even weirder. Or maybe he was just used to weirdness and normalcy was surprising to him.

He shared food with his dog Sven, for one, and often talked in a goofy voice to pretend that Sven could answer him back. Adam's quirks were probably nothing compared to Kristoff's.

_And _I'm_ not even the biggest weirdo here._

"Geez, you and Elsa seem to like clichés, don't you?" Kristoff grumbled, shaking his head.

"Yes…they certainly provide some comfort for the broken. It's nice sometimes to think that love can truly conquer all," Adam chuckled, his eyes gleaming with something the techie couldn't quite place. "Beauty is found within…and there is nothing to fear but fear itself…isn't that right, Elsa?"

_Wait, _what's _being broken? And Elsa's not even he—_

"…Adam? God, that looks terrible," Kristoff heard a familiar, melodic voice call out as he glanced behind him in surprise. A hidden panel on the floor had been pushed back and Elsa was climbing out of it, a grimace on her face as she saw the state of the actor's foot. Charlotte followed a few seconds later, a deer-in-the-headlights look plastered on her curiously dust-covered face. Noticing this, Olaf hurried over to help her up before sliding the hidden panel back into place.

"Do you need a warm hug right now?" he asked in genuine concern as the blonde kept opening and closing her mouth like a fish, eyes so comically wide, Kristoff was actually worried they might fall out of her head. "I don't know how much you've seen, but I promise we can explain later."

Charlotte continued to stare around the room, as if she couldn't quite believe it.

_Damn. I had hoped we could've kept these actors out of it…_

"Okay, Charlotte…Don't freak out or anything, but I'm gonna give you a hug right now. Hugs help calm people down. Not that I don't think you're not calm, but you're sorta scaring me with that fish look you've got going on."

Olaf had impeccable timing, it seemed. The moment his arms wrapped around Charlotte's petite frame, the girl's eyes fluttered closed and she fainted, her body going limp.

"_Great_, just what we need right now!" Kristoff exclaimed, pulling at his hair in frustration as Sandy rushed over to help Olaf set their Stage Manager on the floor. "Is there anything _else_ that could possibly go wrong?!"

Elsa flicked his forehead. "You're a techie, not an actor. Don't be so melodramatic," she chided, ignoring his yelp of pain as she bent down to retrieve a set of keys that Charlotte was clutching in her hand. "And everyone knows that you shouldn't ask that question."

Adam chuckled from his chair. "She has a point, you know. You're practically begging for another accident to occur."

_Well, I guess I'm not getting any help here._ Kristoff shot him a glare, only for it to fade when another grimace crossed the actor's face. "Elsa, are you gonna do something about this guy's foot, or what?"

He saw her bite her lip, glancing at the keys in her hand before abruptly turning her head in the direction of the auditorium. Kristoff pursed his lips into a tight frown as he too caught snippets of the music playing.

_Shit, even if we run to the office, there's no telling if we'll make it or not._

Icy blue eyes flicked over to meet his, and he blanched as he suddenly realized what it was Elsa intended to do.

"…Are you sure about this?"

She curtly nodded. Once.

"It's…sort of my job, remember? And as clichéd as it sounds, the show must go on."

* * *

**A/N:** Curiously enough, our Tech Director's last name was _Winters_…

And I mean no disrespect towards any of the readers who are actors themselves. Our productions usually had really nice people who'd help us out and they weren't really that full of themselves, but apparently after our year graduated…that wasn't really the case anymore. :/ I know that there are nice actors, but keep in mind that there are also Carlotta-type actors as well. Please do not take offense if you are the former. In this story…let's just say that Kristoff has his reasons and his opinions aren't representative of the crew as a whole.

The _West Side Story _parts are taken from my own experience with our school's production of it, including bits of the problems backstage. I haven't actually seen the professional stage performance, unfortunately, and to be frank, it's been a while since our performance so I apologize for any discrepancies due to ignorance or forgetfulness. :/

Also, the way our tech crew works might be different from others, as well as naming conventions and placement of things. Everything, really. Our crew was (and probably still is) woefully understaffed too, so this might affect a few things. Sorry about that. Hopefully, you won't have to deal with the confusion/frustration for too long, since I plan on diverging from my own experiences. Besides, this fic isn't really about the details of the tech crew, anyway—chapter 1 just has the bulk of them. xD

I mean…Elsanna all the way, am I right? I also apologize for the distinct lack of Anna in this chapter, but I promise she will make her appearance soon, considering how she's all but dominated the summary. Needless to say, there will be multiple POVs used in this story.

As the chapter title suggests, this was very crew-centric, but that won't be the case for all of them. And I realized halfway through writing this that bits of Anna were starting to pour into Charlotte, so I apologize for that. I really shouldn't have gone on an Elsanna reading-binge beforehand, but…I dunno. I think it works for now, since she was _just_ introduced. Oh, and it might be a bit late for this, but pardon current and future possible OOC-ness among the characters, particularly with Adam since I'm also drawing on his original non-Disney version. It is an AU after all, so everyone's circumstances will be a little different from their canon counterparts.

And hopefully, this will be the last long Author's Note you guys will see for the remainder of the story.

Reviews are appreciated so long as they are kept civil—flames will not be tolerated.


End file.
